Welcome to my world
by Potix
Summary: A collection of one-shots written because of prompts on Tumblr. Fluffy, funny and romantic. Ratings may vary in the future.
1. Jenga

**Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, Steve Moffat, Mark Gatiss own Sherlock and his realm. I just own my computer,my version of Openoffice, and my sick fantasies. English is not my native language, please forgive the mistakes and the typos.**

**To help me to fight this hateful, and hideous writer's block that kidnapped my inspiration(and my will to write), the gentle and always caring Sherlollian fellowship on Tumblr offered, on my request, some prompts. Beware, my dear readers: the ratings may vary in future, and for the genre...well, probably I will have another collection of angsty one-shots in the future, but this one will be mostly fluffy, funny and romantic.**

**For iheartdramas on Tumblr, who gave me this prompt: "S****herlock and Molly play Jenga and Molly WINS!"**

"Just say it, Sherlock"

"I refuse to accept the result"

"You refuse to accept what, Sherlock?"

"..."

"You can't even pronounce the words, can't you? Is it really so annoying, that I-"

"Don't. I told you before, you were obviously cheating. It's impossible for a human being who is unable to ride a bike without falling at the end of the trip, who burned herself while draining the pasta,who dislocated her ring finger while climbing on a kayak, to be able to acquire the physical and mental skills necessary to play Jenga, and to-"

"To beat you. Because that is what has happened. I beat you, and I suggest you to not underestimate my uncanny abilities again, Sherlock,because -umpf !"

"..."

"You've just fallen from the chair, Molly"

"..."

"Care to repeat your speech about your uncanny abilities, Dr Hooper?"

"I hate you"

"No you don't"

"It's true, I don't hate I don't like you either, right now"

"Uncorrected again. Do you need assistance, or do you prefer to remain on the floor ?"

"Remind me why I accepted to marry an insolent, sarcastic, insufferable man"

"Because you love me, obviously. And because I can't imagine my life without my extraordinary pathologist/Jenga champion"

"See?It wasn't so bad, to actually say the words. Jenga champion, I like the sound of it..."

"I hate you"

"..."

"Ok, I don't hate you. But I want to exercise my veto on Jenga. From now, no more Jenga here, at Baker Street. If you can put a veto on Cluedo, I have every right to-"

"Ok, ok! At this rate, you will ban also poker"

"Not if it's strip poker, Mrs Holmes"

**Thanks for reading. ****Leave a review, you will receive good influence and beautiful dreams.**


	2. Through the fire and flames

**Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, Steve Moffat, Mark Gatiss own Sherlock and his realm. I just own my computer,my version of Openoffice, and my sick fantasies. English is not my native language, please forgive the mistakes and the typos.**

******Icequeenforlife on tumblr asked for some Sherlolly **Smauglock, because "**there's just not enough of it". Well,it's definitely Sherlolly. And there's Smaug. So, technically, it's Sherlolly Smauglock. **

"And for tonight, I think it's enough. I will read you the rest of the chapter tomorrow"

"Daddy! I want you to read me about Smaug, please!"

"Molly, be patient. You will have your daily dose of "The Hobbit" tomorrow night,but only if-"

"If I will be a good girl, I know. Goodnight,daddy"

"Goodnight, my Molly"

* * *

_The glow of Smaug! There he lay, a vast red-golden dragon, fast asleep; thrumming came from his jaws and nostrils, and wisps of smoke, but his fires were low in slumber. Beneath him, under all his limbs and his huge coiled tail, and about him on all sides stretching away across the unseen floors, lay countless piles of precious things, gold wrought and unwrought, gems and jewels, and silver red-stained in the ruddy light. _Sherlock paused for a second.

"Don't stop,please"

"Molly, it's the fifth time I read you this part. I'm sure there's another way to help you fight insomnia"

"You agreed to help me, Sherlock. It's not my fault that since I was 5 and I couldn't sleep, my father had read it to me to help me fall asleep"

"Well, you're not a five years old girl anymore - you're a very mature eighteen years old young woman, and I'm not your father. You can read it on your own, Molly Hooper". The curly and lanky teenager tried to leave the sofa, but her hand was quick to grab his wrist.

"Sherlock, please..."

He grumbled, but sat down again."Anyway, why the Smaug part? It's not the main character, and there are many other parts of the book,more interesting than this one"

"I like him"

"It"

"He's a male dragon. And he's sarcastic, and arrogant,and...".Molly stopped herself abruptly.

"And...?"Sherlock prompted, now quite curious about her strange fascination.

"He reminds me of someone, that's all"

"Of whom ?".

"It's not your business, Sherlock"

"Well, I'm here reading this book to you, I think it may be my business"

"I like him, that's all. He's sarcastic...and very intelligent"

"You're repeating yourself, Molly"

"I- I just like when you change your voice to read his dialogues, Sherlock. You make him sound...well, sexy"

He stiffened. "Sexy?"

"Yes, I found your voice...attractive. Especially when you read. Are you happy now?"

"Well, it is...unexpected". Molly was waiting for him to leave her, and a part of her was hoping for it. She had always found Smaug the dragon a wonderful character, and "The hobbit"was like a fairytale for her, when she was a child. But now...Sherlock's deep, baritone voice was doing something to her,she was feeling something new and exciting. They had been friends since she was ten years old;she had met him shortly after his father's death, but now she was starting to look at him under a different light. Trivial things, like his long, bony fingers, his soft curls, the way his eyes bursted with excitement when an experiment went right...they were starting to be...well,captivating. She knew she shouldn't think of him like that: he was his friend, and she was sure he was not interested. Now she had embarassed herself, and probably lost one of her few friend.

_"Well, thief! I smell you and I feel your air. I hear your breath. Come along! Help yourself again, there is plenty and to spare!"_. His voice woke her up from her sad musings._"I suppose you got a fair price for that cup last night?î he went on. Come now, did you? Nothing at all! Well, that's just like them. And I suppose they are skulking outside, and your job is to do all the dangerous work and get what you can when I'm not looking-for them? And you will get a fair share? Don't you believe it! If you get off alive, you will be lucky"._

Sherlock's voice lulled her to sleep. It was a pity, because she couldn't see the longing stares that caressed her skin while he was reading to her, and she missed the soft touch of his lips on her forehead, when he kissed her goodnight,before he left to return home. In her dreams, instead, she imagined a clever, intuitive dragon, with the most beautiful eyes she had ever seen, taking care of her and protecting her from evil.

**Thanks for reading. ****Leave a review, you will receive good influence and beautiful dreams.**


	3. Through the fire and flames -second take

**Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, Steve Moffat, Mark Gatiss own Sherlock and his realm. I just own my computer,my version of Openoffice, and my sick fantasies. English is not my native language, please forgive the mistakes and the typos.**

**This is a companion piece to the previous chapter, "Through the fire and flames". The second take of the same prompt. Another fluffy Sherlolly Smauglock. Very fluffy, in my opinion. Enjoy!**

**Smaug!lock Parent!lock**

"Daddy, don't stop!"

"It's time to go to sleep, Eloise..."

"I'm already in bed, so I don't need to move myself to go to sleep-your statement is uncorrected, daddy"

The sound of muffled laughter, coming from the hallway, arrived to Sherlock's ears. "Alright, I will read a bit more to you, but only for other ten minutes: this is my last offer"

"Ok...thank you, daddy. Now read" the little girl yawned. Just a few sentences later, Eloise was fast asleep. Her father tucked her in, and left her, with a last kiss on her forehead: Molly was still waiting for him, just behind the door.

"Our daughter seems to share with you your bizarre fascination with dragons..."

"At least she has inherited something from me...she's a mini-Sherlock, with your wild curls and penetrating eyes..."

"But she has your nose, and she stops in awe when she sees a feline, like her mother..."

"And she loves when you read "The Hobbit" to her, like I did..."

"What does it mean ? You don't find my dragon voice sexy anymore?" Sherlock teased his wife, and leaned forward, stopping a few centimeters from her mouth.

"Well, we are both scientists, in our own way...I suggest we do an experiment:read a bit of Smaug to me, and then you can test if I'm as excited as in the past"

"Have I ever told you that I like your kinks very much, Dr. Hooper-Holmes?"

"A few times...but enough with the flattering: read to me, my sexy dragon"

**Thanks for reading. ****Leave a review, you will receive good influence and beautiful dreams.**


	4. Last Christmas

**Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, Steve Moffat, Mark Gatiss own Sherlock and his realm. I just own my computer,my version of Openoffice, and my sick fantasies. English is not my native language, please forgive the mistakes and the typos.**

**MorbidbyDefault gave me this prompt on Tumblr:"Sherlock has the chance to go back in time and redo that dreadful Christmas party..and boy does he get it right eventually. ;)". I changed it just a little bit, since I'm writing also an angsty one-shot about Sherlock going back in time (or better,living the same day again and again, a groundhog day it's called, isn't it?) and I wanted this one to be fluffy and funny. Hope you're going to like it anyway !**

_Tell me baby _  
_Do you recognize me? _  
_Well _  
_If it's been a year _  
_It doesn't surprise me _  
_"Merry Christmas" _  
_I wrapped it up and sent it _  
_With a note saying "I love you" _  
_I meant it _  
_Now I know what a fool I've been _  
_But if you kissed me now _  
_I know you'd fool me again _

Last Christmas - Wham!

* * *

He returned to London three years after his "death". Moriarty's web dismantled, Moran dead...it was time to come back home. Be reunited with John was like put on your favourite pair of shoes after a long time: it hurt at first (mostly because of a few precise punches), but then it was like he had never made the entire world believe that he was dead. Well, not the entire world: Mycroft knew, and of course his pathologist was aware that the body under the gravestone was not his.

His pathologist, Molly Hooper. After faking his fall from St. Bart's rooftop, he had spent a few weeks hiding in her tiny flat. During that time, he had observed her, and the room devoted to her in his mind palace had grown bigger and bigger, and now, he had to decide what to do with all the stuff he had piled up. Should he evict her? Or should he move her to a bigger room?

Sherlock was pondering on it one night, sitting in his armchair, when his eyes fell on the mantelpiece, and behind his skull, he spotted the Christmas present Molly had given him more than three years before: an old pocket watch, with a bee carved on the backside. Once he had told her that he found bees fascinating, and she had obviously remembered it. His mind went back to that dreadful Christmas party: it was one of the few times when he had truly felt an idiot, because he got it all wrong, and because he had purposely spoken those words to her to hurt her, to make fun of her ridiculous attempt at being sexy and seductive...and a little voice in his head added _"because you saw how Lestrade looked at her, how even John appreciated her curves, not hidden by his white coat...don't try to deny it: when you brushed your lips against her cheek, you wondered if her skin were so soft elsewhere..."_

Sometimes he wondered how that party would have been without his stupid boasting...and then he had an epiphany: maybe there was a way to discover it.

* * *

When John returned to Baker street after his shift at the clinic, he found his flatmate with his head in a big box full of bric-a-brac.

"What are you doing...wait, don't tell me, I don't want to know. Surely it's better than returning home to find you shooting the wall"

"It deserved it...where did you put the Christmas decoration ?"

"Probably in the box labeled "Christmas decorations"...I think it's in Mrs Hudson's flat,not-"

"Mrs Hudson!"

"Sherlock, you can't shout like that to the poor woman,she's..."John scolded him, but he could already hear the sound of their landlady on the steps.

"Dear boy,I don't want to be disturbed when I'm drinking my herbal soother"

"Where did you put the decorations?"

"Decorations?What kind of decorations?"

"For Christmas, Mrs Hudson, please keep up!"

"They're in the spare room I think...".Sherlock rushed downstairs, leaving his best friend and his landlady - not his housekeeper - perplexed.

"Why does he need Christmas decorations? It's only october...". They didn't have time to speculate further because Sherlock reappeared, a large box in his arms.

"Sherlock, would you like to explain to us why are you behaving like-"

"Like what?"the consulting detectives barked, aggressively.

"More bizarre than usual,I would say-why do you need those fake poinsettia, and the glass ornaments for the tree?Is it for a case?".

"No, not a case...".Mrs Hudson was leaving the room when Sherlock's booming voice stopped her."Where's the tree, Mrs Hudson? I need the tree!"he commanded hysterically.

John was now slightly worried."Listen,give me a good reason for your behaviour and-".Sherlock interrupted him."Can you prepare a Christmas pudding, John? And then leave the flat, go and spend the night with whoever your girlfriend is now"

"Her name is Mary, and you told me that you liked her! Wait, did you say Christmas pudding? Sherlock,it's only october, and you hate Christmas! The last Christmas party here was an utter failure, mostly because of your behaviour towards Molly". At the mention of the pathologist's name, John witnessed a rare show: Sherlock Holmes hanging his head in shame.

"Sherlock...is it possible that you are doing all this for Molly?". Later that evening, John Watson swore to his soon-to-be-fiancée that he was sure he had seen the consulting detective actually blushing.

"It's irrelevant. Are you able to cook that damn pudding or not?"

The good doctor sighed, and shook his head. And then, Sherlock shouted again. "Mrs Hudson!"

* * *

Molly Hooper was finishing the paperwork for her last autopsy, when her cellphone beeped. Incoming text...from Sherlock.

"Come to Baker Street as soon as you can-SH"

In the last few months, after Sherlock's return, she had visited him at home quite often, so teh request wasn't strange. He would probably just need another bag full of toes...it always surprised her how many spare toes and fingers there were in the morgue.

"Ok. Give me an hour-MH"

"I've sent you something with a delivery boy-SH".She finished to read the text, when a young boy appeared outside the glass doors. "A delivery for Ms. Hooper".

The box was big, but not very heavy. Inside there were a bag from an exclusive boutique in Soho, and a shoe box. She opened first the bag, and what she found took her breath away: a wonderful dark green tunic dress, with gold embellishments around the neckline. In the shoe box, instead, a pair of black Mary Jane, with broad 4'' heels.

She was still inspecting the dress, when a third sms arrived.

"Don't worry, both the dress and the shoes are of the right size. Put them on and take a cab-SH"

"Sherlock, is it for a case?-MH"

It took 5 minutes for Sherlock to answer, and in that time Molly managed to change,and to complain with herself about the lack of make-up in her bag.

"Come to Baker Street. Will explain later-SH". She shrugged: enigmatic as always.

"Leave the hair down-SH"

* * *

It took her 20 minutes to finally arrive. Mrs Hudson opened the door, and gave her warm smile.

"Thank God you're here, darling! He's more insufferable than ever, today! He left his door opened for you, no need to knock, he said..."

The stair cracked under her weight, making his wait even more stressful. Everything was in place, and he was ready to make amends. Could he? He had already said that he was sorry, but then he had treated Molly like always: keeping her at distance, with disdain for her obvious feelings for him...nonetheless, she had helped him in the most desperate moment of his life, without questions, without letting herself doubt him, his actions, his reputation, for a moment. Could he repay her for her devotion? Because it was now obvious to him, that it was no more a matter of will. He wanted to make amends, he just didn't know if it was too late, if all that he had planned was enough. Enough to make her understand that she truly counted. Molly Hooper was a valid pathologist, a loyal friend,and maybe...maybe she was something more than that.

Sherlock Holmes knew he was not an average man. Nothing about him was conventional, or banal. No flutter in his stomach, no daydreaming about a future with 2 kids, a house in the country and a beehive in the backyard (well, a little daydreaming about the beehive...), made him aware of his feelings towards his pathologist; anyway, he knew they had changed. He still thought she had the most hideous taste about clothes and music, that her cat was obese and annoying, and someone should make her understand that her jokes were not funny, but only ridiculous. Despite her flaws, she was still the personification of care, of trust, of pure and simple love, and he admired her for it. Sometimes, he even envied her. Maybe, with the right words, he could convince her to teach him how to be a little less abrasive, more affectionate, without these changes clouding his rational mind.

A soft cough distracted him from his musings, followed by a surprised "Oh..." from Molly, and an equally surprised exclamation from Sherlock. Yes, he should definitely choose her clothes from now on.

"Sherlock, this is..."

"Strange? Bizarre? Breathtaking?"

"Yes, but most of all...it's out of season. Is it for a case? Why the Christmas tree? Why the lights, and the decorations...is that Christmas Pudding?"

"Yes, Molly, it's Christmas pudding, and if you would like to take just a few steps back...yes, like that, stop!".

"Here? Why, Sherlock...hmmph...oh, Sherlock..."

He knew it was only october, that maybe he should have explained to her, and taken her out on an ordinary date before kissing her under the misteltoe...but he was not ordinary. He was Sherlock Holmes, and she was his Molly.

**So, here it is...****Thanks for reading. ****Leave a review, you will receive good influence and beautiful dreams.**


	5. Good enough

**Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, Steve Moffat, Mark Gatiss own Sherlock and his realm. I just own my computer,my version of Openoffice, and my sick fantasies. English is not my native language, please forgive the mistakes and the typos.**

**Cutepet66 prompted me on Tumblr:"I know there aren't many physical dating services any more (it's all done on the Internet now), but maybe there is one, but it's a front for some crime syndicate, so Sherlock goes to shut them down, but runs into Molly. I know smut will be difficult to establish (with all the action), but I think Molly should at least get felt up, the poor girl".I changed it a bit, and no smut,sorry but...without further ado, this is your story!**

**P.s: I use the occasion to dedicate it to Morbidbydefault...happy (belated) birthday, Meg!**

_If it's good enough for you, it's good enough for me_  
_It's good enough for two, it's what I want to see_

Dodgy - Good Enough

It was all Mary's fault. Why did she follow her best friend's advice? They were mostly moronic, and a prelude to failure._"You need to get Sherlock out of your head, out of your system-you have to meet new people. Go to the club,or...have you ever tried speed dating?"_. Mary insisted, and now she was in this lounge bar near Liverpool Street, with other nine desperate women like her, anxious to impress and to be impressed. Molly didn't spend too much time and effort into choosing an outfit: a simple dark blue blouse on a pair of black trousers, and her favourite pair of flat shoes; a minimal amount of make-up (eyeliner,blush,transparent lip gloss) and she was ready to face the music.

The host registered her, and gave her a scorecard, a name badge and a pen; she invited Molly and the other women (another doctor, a few secretaries; half of them were divorced, and slightly older; the others were on their thirties like her) to have a drink together, while waiting for the men to arrive.

It took only a non-alcoholic cocktail for them to arrive. Every woman took a seat, while the men would rotate every three minutes when the bell rang.

"After each date participants mark on a scorecard whether they would like to see that person again. At the end of the evening you can stay around to chat to the people they've just met...and at the end of the evening everyone takes their scorecards home with them, and tomorrow you will enter your ticks online, and you will see if you match with anyone! if you don't meet at least one person you'd like to see again your next event is free...but I'm sure tonight everyone will find someone special!" The host's cheerful voice annoyed Molly terribly, but she put on a fake smile and waited for the first man to sit down.

"Hi! I'm Robert...and you are...Milly! Nice to meet you, Milly!I'm an accountant, 33, born in Birmingham, single, obviously -"

"It's Molly"

"Sorry, what?"

"My name. I'm Molly, not Milly"

"Are you sure?"

_"I know that nothing good could come out of this...I will kill Mary...and none will find her. I'm a pathologist, after all, I know a few things about hiding corpses"_

* * *

"What's your job?"

"I'm a pathologist at St. Bartholomew Hospital"

"So...you cut dead people?"

"Well, the live ones put up too much of a fight...". She giggled, but the sudden pallor on her counterpart's face told her that her joke was not appreciated._"A bit not good, Molly..."_

* * *

"I love go hiking, and listening to soul music, and-"

"May I interrupt you, Paul? There's a nice old lady sitting at the bar, and she's waving at us...do you know her?"

Paul sniggered."Of course I know her...she's Mummy!"

"Your...mum?"

"Yes, I can't go anywhere without her...she wants to be sure that I'm safe. Do you want to know her?"

* * *

The tenth (and thankfully last) man was approaching her table, when Molly heard the sound of a commotion coming from the bar's foyer. A few shouts ("Let me go, you bastard!"-"Catch him before he bolts again!"), and the voice of DI Lestrade reached her ears. "It's all over, no need to panic...we are doing our job". She got up to have a few words with Greg, when she caught sight of a familiar dark blue coat. A shiver ran down her spine. "God please, I'm asking you this one thing...don't let it be him, please..."she muttered, squinting to take a better look. Thankfully, no tall, curly haired consulting detective seemed to be within sight, and she returned calmly to her seat...where the above-mentioned consulting detective was waiting for her.

"What did I say to you, Molly Hooper, a few years ago?"

"Hey chap, I don't know who you are but I'm sure this is not your turn, so if you-" the man,whom she was supposed to speak with, tried to make Sherlock leave, but he surely didn't know whom he was dealing with.

"I'm sure your wife, and your two...no,three mistresses will be delighted to know that you were here, tonight, trying to find another paramour. Do you want for me to continue? I'm sure Molly, and the other women here will be interested in your porn addiction, and erection problems". Sherlock smirked, while the other man stuttered some unintelligible apologies and left the locale in a hurry.

"What are you doing here, Sherlock?" Molly asked, a severe migraine already building up.

"A member of Yakuza was hiding next street, and decided that this bar was a good place to be arrested in...but you evaded my question. Do you remember what I said about you and your obnoxious habit of dating men?"

She remembered it well enough...that sentence was like carved in her mind. She quoted him. "For the sake of law and order I suggest you avoid all future attempts at a relationship, Molly"

"I thought I was speaking clearly, that day"

"Cristallyne"

"So why are you not following my directive, Dr Hooper?"

_"The nerve of this man...". _She took a deep breath and counted until five , before speaking. "I'm tired, Sherlock...and I'm sure Lestrade will need you shortly. Good night". Molly extended an hand to take her purse, and made a few steps when a firm grip on her wrist halted her.

"Answer me, Molly"

"No, you answer me!" She tried to wiggle out of his steely grasp, but in vain. "You don't want me to be with you, you don't want me to be with someone else- how miserable do I have to be before you're happy?"

For the first time in her life, she heard Sherlock Holmes stutter. "I- I'm not happy, Molly"

Frustration was pouring out of her. "So why? Why are you here, Sherlock? Why do you waste your time sabotaging my relationships, preventing me from dating, from having a life with a man who loves me for who I am, for what I am?"

"Because I am that man". The statement was so ridiculous, that she snorted, before she burst out laughing. She continued, oblivious to his indignant expression, until she felt a pair of big hands on her cheeks, and soft lips on her open mouth. It took Molly a few seconds before it occurred to her that Sherlock Holmes was trying to make her stop laughing by kissing her. Sherlock was kissing her?! She pushed him away, and in her effort to distance herself from him, she plopped down on one of the small couches behind her.

"What are you doing?!"

"I told you to abstain from dating other men, and you don't understand- 45 seconds ago I proclaimed my interest into pursuing a romantic relationship with you, and you laughed in my face. I thought that kissing you was my last chance to make you comprehend my intentions. Wasn't I obvious enough?"

"I'm sorry...but are you saying that you, Sherlock Holmes, fancies me, Molly Hooper?"

"Do you want an official statement, or do you prefer for me to show you?"

She pretended to think about it, before his mouth was on hers again. It appeared that something good enough could come out of this, after all.

**Thanks for reading. ****Leave a review, you will receive good influence and beautiful dreams.**


	6. Hostage

**Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, Steve Moffat, Mark Gatiss own Sherlock and his realm. I just own my computer,my version of Openoffice, and my sick fantasies. English is not my native language, please forgive the mistakes and the typos.**

**For an anon one word prompt on Tumblr. The word was: _hostage_.**

This time, it was the italian mob. Three years of summer holidays spent in Sicily, so she could grasp some of the words the two men were sharing. She was a bait, a snare to catch a bigger prey. Sherlock Holmes.

They had kidnapped Molly on her way out of St barts : she was too focused on checking the last text the consulting detective had sent to her, to notice the man quickly approaching her from behind. A hand on her mouth, to smother her scream; a handkerchief soaked in chloroform, and she woke up tied to a chair, the two criminals talking about Sherlock. They had already contacted him, it was obvious. No blindfold, so she could look out of the window...these ones were not very clever. She spotted the Shard in the distance. _"Thank God we are still in London...he shouldn't be too late...at least I hope" _she was pondering, when she heard the sound of a door being shot down, and John Watson and Sherlock Holmes appeared on the threshold. A quick scuffle with the bad men, now unconscious on the floor, and the good doctor was helping her to untie her arms and legs. Sherlock simply nodded at her, and after receiving a small smile from his pathologist, he took the smartphone out of his pocket, to alert Lestrade that she was safe. She heard John mutter something against him ("That man is worse than a machine...he could at least say something to you, it's the fourth time this happened since he came back!"). She defended him ("He came here...you both came, to save me. It's enough for me, John"), and prepared herself for another official statement to the police...she was an expert, at this point.

* * *

She was coming out of the bathroom, after the shower, thankfully already dressed, when she heard her door's lock being picked. "I could report you to Lestrade for breaking and entering..."she started to warn him, but Sherlock's lips were already on her mouth, effectively silencing her with so much passion she was almost startled. He hugged her so tightly after the kiss, that she was a little worried. "Sherlock, it's alright...I'm here" she reassured him, and he just nodded, before releasing her and leading her to the couch.

"When we started our relationship, I warned you against the risks, but now I think this is becoming even more dangerous than I had predicted. Maybe it will be better-"

Molly interrupted him, her delicate fingers pressed against his mouth. "Don't. You saved me. You saved me every single time, so don't even think about it. Just promise me that you will always try to save me, I don't need anything more than that from you".

Sherlock examined her face intensely, before lowering his face until his forehead was pressed against hers. "Always". She sighed,comforted by his answer, and he continued.

"Are you still convinced that it's better to keep our relationship a secret? It seems that the criminals are much better observer than our friends...I thought that after your third abduction, at least John would notice something..."

She leaned against him, closing her eyes and savouring his proximity. "The real question, Mr Holmes, is another: are you ready to show the world that you have a heart?"

He chuckled. "You're wrong, Dr. Hooper. I don't have a heart, not anymore. You stole it from me"

**Thanks for reading. Leave a review, you will receive good influence and beautiful dreams.**


	7. A Familiar threat

**Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, Steve Moffat, Mark Gatiss own Sherlock and his realm. I just own my computer,my version of Openoffice, and my sick fantasies. English is not my native language, please forgive the mistakes and the typos.**

**Anonymous on Tumblr proposed to Ilovesunshine93 a prompt ("****a Cabin Pressure x Sherlock crossover where Sherlock stumbles in on Martin flirting with Molly and he gets jealous"),and since she doesn't listen to cabin Pressure, and I'm in love with that radio show, I decided to adopt this prompt. Definitely Sherlolly, dear Mr Crieff is only a supporting character here.**

Sherlock Holmes approached the morgue's doors with the sprint in his step that only an apparently unsolvable triple homicide could cause. He flung the doors open with a theatrical gesture, when the sound of two well-known voices reached his ears. The first was Molly's: bright,honest...and the other had a distinctive nervous tone that gave his owner away immediately. His half brother, Martin Crieff,whose existence he had accidentally discovered during his "death",was in the morgue (his morgue) with his pathologist. The thing that was really atrocious was that they were giggling...he had to stop it. None should laugh in such a place,with _his_ Molly...but him. The fact that she didn't know that she was his, was irrelevant.

He glared at them, but they were so engrossed in their laughter, that they didn't notice his entrance. Sherlock knew that it was time for drastic measures, and clearing his throat, he approached them from behind.

"She's not interested in you, you know..." his deep voice startled both Molly and Martin, and the captain let out a sharp cry. "Sherlock! I'm- I'm not intere-Wh-what are you doing here?!" he stuttered, clearly agitated.

"Well, I think I may turn the question to you. What are _you_ doing here, Mr Crieff?"

"I-I called you an hour ago, and-"

"I don't answer to phone calls. Go on"

"That's why I sent you a text, to tell you that I would come here because I had some errands to run a few blocks from here..."

Sherlock took out of his pocket his cellphone: a missed call and a new text were effectively signaled on the display. "This doesn't explain why you were here, trying to flirt with _my_ pathologist...like I already said, she's not interested. You, on the other way...".

"I asked him to wait for you here with me...we were simply having a chat, weren't we, Martin?". Molly glared at Sherlock and then winked at Martin, and the captain blushed to the roots of his red hair.

"Ye-yes, we were simply talking!" he exclaimed, a bit too enthusiastically, and the frown on Sherlock's face deepened. Thankfully Martin's phone rang, and the pilot sighed. "I'm sorry, Molly, but I remembered that I have to pick up Arthur in...ten minutes, I'm already late! So, we are ok for later? Seven o'clock, here? I'll be the one with the funny hat!" he joked, but Sherlock's glare made him retreat quickly towards the door.

"Yes, of course. See you later, Martin!" she waved him goodbye, and when she was sure that Martin was not in the room anymore, she turned to Sherlock, her hands on her hips, and a fierce expression on her face.

"What's the matter with you?!" she accused, and for a moment Sherlock was at loss. Yes, what was the matter with him? How could he be feel threatened by his broke half-brother, the captain of a failing airline, with serious self-esteem issues? And why was he feeling such a discomfort at the idea that he was flirting with Molly?

"I shouldn't tell you, but Martin was here also to ask for my help to search for a Christmas gift for you...he really admires you, you know? You could treat him better, he's your brother after all!" Molly scolded him, and Sherlock sighed. "I always miss something..." he thought, with a strange feeling of relief. Captain Martin Crieff wasn't blushing because he was interested in her, but simply because he feared he would discover his ideas for his Christmas present.

"I will try..." he muttered, and she smiled with satisfaction at his promise. "So, you're here for those three bodies, aren't you? Let's take a look!"

Soon, he would have to question himself about his pathologist. For now, he had a pathologist to follow, and a killer to catch.

**Thanks for reading. ****Leave a review, you will receive good influence and beautiful dreams.**


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